<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Bésame Mucho by scorpiobabylon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621649">Bésame Mucho</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiobabylon/pseuds/scorpiobabylon'>scorpiobabylon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Better Call Saul (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mirror Sex, Naked Cuddling, Pet Names, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Showers, cw surreal animal death, nacho really really really likes kissing and lalo watches him shower, the feelings aren't huge but this fic is weirdly tender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:34:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiobabylon/pseuds/scorpiobabylon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor Nacho. Poor Ignacio, with his live-in lady friends in that new construction. The untouched kitchen breaks Lalo’s heart. He imagines the sex Nacho performs with those girls is a lot like bypassing a beatufiul gas stove to drop poptarts in a toaster oven. Has no one taught you how to cook, Nachito? Did you know once, and forget?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bésame Mucho</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/drphil/gifts">drphil</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lalo feels bad for these guys that are late to the game. Under regular circumstances-- chasing men of the purely civilian variety-- it’s tough, but while well-connected, already donning a costume everyone recognizes, it’s a hard road. He feels bad for Nacho in his <em> chico de moda </em> pants, noting the way his gait is gentle without ever being light.<br/><br/>Nacho’s steady. He’s lovely, but the tell isn’t in his manner. It’s not his glinting little earring, for all the pleasure Lalo derives from it-- no, the aesthetics aren’t for him. It’s the eyes. The man of few words, telling a whole story with where his attention goes. Nacho lets his gaze lock and linger, then drop away slowly, the beating of his eyelashes broadcasting thoughtful stoicism. Enduring masculinity at odds with alien desire. It isn’t an act, Lalo wouldn’t call it an act, but there’s something delightfully showy about the way Nacho licks his lips at Lalo’s exposed ankles crossed on the restaurant table. The guy’s nostrils flare, and he’s back to looking hard straight ahead at the shop door.<br/><br/>Poor Nacho. Poor Ignacio, with his live-in lady friends in that new construction. The untouched kitchen breaks Lalo’s heart. He imagines the sex Nacho performs with those girls is a lot like bypassing a beatufiul gas stove to drop poptarts in a toaster oven. Has no one taught you how to cook, Nachito? Did you know once, and forget? Improvisation around a general feeling of what you want to eat is so much fun. It’s exciting, not knowing <em> exactly </em> what you’ll get, but having confidence that it will be delicious.<br/><br/>“You heard something about me.” Lalo accuses with a playful lilt, the smile creeping up his face threatening to grow brighter. “That you are my type, maybe?” They’re in that woefully underutilized kitchen. It’s dark outside. They haven’t finished their round of poker, but pausing felt necessary as the men’s glasses had emptied. With the girls sent away as quickly as they were introduced-- Nacho made a point to draw attention to them, Lalo noticed, but also to get rid of them-- it was left to the host to refill everyone’s liquor. Host plus a boss who was feeling generous.<br/><br/>They aren’t far from Nacho’s men, but Lalo’s crowded Nacho into the corner in that way a higher-up is allowed to do with a lieutenant. There’s a bit of distance between them to communicate respect; Lalo isn’t threatening him, only getting close to him. They could be talking official business, if anyone were to glance over and wonder. They’re all enraptured by a story the dealer with the most jewelry is telling, anyway.<br/><br/>Nacho looks from the glasses he’s filling to where Lalo is blocking his view of the other room. He drops his gaze, pursing his lips slightly as he shakes his head. “I didn’t hear anything about you. No.”<br/><br/>The wattage on Lalo’s grin cranks all the way up. It’s admirable, how Nacho’s inclination is to protect his people. It’s supposed to be a secret about Lalo, and talking would be disrespectful to the Salamancas and dealt with thus. “You just had a sense?” Lalo clarifies, even as he knows full well that Nacho certainly heard something from someone.<br/><br/>As long as it doesn’t get back to his uncle, bless him, Lalo doesn’t care personally what people speculate. Loyalty comes first, always, and he’s certainly proved himself well enough as a man of the family. He’s earned a good reputation-- ruthless, intelligent, self-sufficient. That’s all him. Gossip reflects poorly on thems that talk, not on Lalo.<br/><br/>It isn’t shame which inspires him to hide; he hasn’t got the capacity for shame. It’s gratitude for the privilege which has been bestowed upon him. Discovered tangled up in one another, the stable master’s son from Lalo’s youth was punished-- Lalo was not. He understood, then, that it would be in his best interest to air on the side of subtlety.<br/><br/>He’s allowed to play in these waters, as his authority allows him to retreat under the guise of a test in case things sour. Nacho’s not so lucky; he could be dealing with some quantity of shame. He’s wrestling something, behind the gentleness of his voice and the steadfast hold of his brown eyes. He’s chosen to look up, now, to let the heat build as he has been all week. “A sense. Did you hear something about me?”<br/><br/>“No.” Lalo’s smile softens. The inquiry keeps the flirtation rolling, but also strikes him as a genuine concern. He wants to reassure Nachito that he’s got nothing to worry about. He’s being so brave.<br/><br/>Lalo leans his hand against the countertop, head tilting, “My <em> sense </em> is that you’re curious. Eh?” He points to Nacho at chest level, then turns to gather half the drinks he’s made up, choosing to let the guy breathe. It isn’t mercy so much as the rules of the game; a bit of catch and release, a bit of blending back into the world of men who don’t speak to one another like this. It’s all part of the fun. He shoots Nacho a wink over his shoulder, as if it might not be obvious enough that a reward will come if he’s patient.<br/><br/>They play poker. Lalo bluffs with a shit hand, and Domingo folds out of deference before he’s spirited away by a phone call. Lalo likes the way Nacho gives firm orders; he wonders if Nacho likes the way these submissive soldiers let Lalo win at poker.<br/><br/>Domingo’s screwed by the time they get to the fifth street house. The whole block is swarming with cops, and Lalo reconsiders escalating his little seduction tonight. Business is the priority; pleasure can wait. They lost a lot of product, he’s got to take some time to mull over how to minimize the...<br/><br/>Nacho leaves the car without a word. Lalo watches, fascinated, thoughts on hold. What does he want to show him? He watches intently, dubious but amused. It’s not as if the guy needs to go above and beyond to make an impression, but then, maybe Nacho’s a little stupid! He jumps rooftop to rooftop, and Lalo cracks up, beyond fascinated. Full of surprises. They wait-- the car is tense, but Lalo’s having a good time. He snacks on peanuts from the glove compartment. Even if his little crush gets put away for this, he’s enjoying the show. So, if they never get to consummate the relationship, it’s a bit sad, but…<br/><br/>The sound of the car door surprises Lalo for the second time. Nacho drops back into the passenger side, pouring sweat. He wrangles salvaged product out of his pants, little white baggies plain as day for the whole audience.<br/><br/>Lalo’s heart does a flip.<br/><br/>While Nacho gets ahold of his breathing, Lalo’s chatty for most of the drive-- he recounts how brave Nacho was while the fifth street dealers chime in agreement from the backseat. The hero doesn’t gloat. Once both dealers are dropped off, the car settles into a comfortable silence. Lalo turns the radio on soft.<br/><br/>They’re both quiet as they pull into Nacho’s driveway. Lalo parks, and, presumptuous, turns the engine off with an animated flourish. Drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel, he turns to look at the man in his passenger seat.<br/><br/>Nacho’s boneless in the shadows, tired, but smiling at Lalo with the absolute sweetest sincerity. He looks proud of himself. Excited, maybe, anticipatory.<br/><br/>“What’s your type?” Nacho asks softly before Lalo gets to set the tone himself. Just spanish between them now.<br/><br/>“Since you heard it was you?” Lalo clarifies, pleased, mimicking the way Nacho’s pressed up against the headrest. He grins, “Hm. You know, <em> brave, </em> strong.” Lalo chuckles because Nacho does. “Quiet. You’ve got a lot going on up there.” Tapping his temple, he adds, “I like that in a man.”<br/><br/>The point of no return passed a long way back, but it remains thrilling that there isn’t a shred of concealment going on inside the car.<br/><br/>Lalo sits back up to look Nacho up and down. Drink him in. Give a little bit of what he’s been getting, or-- maybe he’s been matching him this entire time. He can’t help himself. “Ambitious. Cute. A <em> little </em> stupid.”<br/><br/>Nacho’s smirking. He brushes his thumb over his lips and glances away, out the window, then back to Lalo. He quirks an eyebrow.<br/><br/>Lalo’s smile grows. He puts his hands up, laughing, “alright, you got me! It’s pretty boys, I like pretty boys.” He begins to add as Nacho sits up, “you’re <em> very </em> --”<br/><br/>Nacho moves across the console to kiss him. He bunches the front of Lalo’s shirt in his hand and pulls him into him, crushing their lips together in slow-motion. Lalo’s hands come up to cradle Nacho’s face, fingertips brushing the residual sweat behind his ears.<br/><br/>He tastes clean. Nearly like nothing, with a vague metallic twinge like blood. Did you bite your cheek when you landed on the roof, Nachito? Not a hint of cigarette flavor, or any assortment of mints to compensate. Just mouth. Lalo wants something more, and so holds the back of his skull still as he noses along his throat to lick at where Nacho’s cologne mingles with sweat and becomes something headier. That’s the stuff. He nearly gets ahead of himself, finding his hands worrying apart the buttons of Nacho’s shirt, and then the guy’s holding his wrists and pushing him into another kiss.<br/><br/>He loves kissing, apparently. One was enough to get the message across-- short, hot, an expression of intent before moving onto the unzipping of flies-- but Nacho’s got business with Lalo’s mouth. Lalo’s more than happy to accommodate, opening up and relaxing into wherever this is going. Nacho’s taste is more interesting the longer he’s allowed to lick into him. It’s a slow-developing sort of thing, a flavor Lalo decides he’s fascinated by, getting playful with how insistently he surges forward to taste. Nacho’s still got his wrists. Why? Is he so prim that a line was crossed?<br/><br/>Mid-kiss, the touching of tongues lightening up into closed-mouth smooching, Lalo forces his hand down to where it was caught at Nacho’s chest. He pinches the collar of his red undershirt, huffing out a laugh at how Nacho’s grip only tightens. Does he want to kiss, or does he want to arm-wrestle?<br/><br/>Lalo tries creeping his fingertips a little lower, just to stroke his skin, and Nacho releases him altogether. He breaks the kiss and opens the car door, leaving Lalo bewildered under the automatic light. Nacho’s got one foot on the pavement as he blinks over his shoulder to ask, in that velvety voice of his, “are you coming?”<br/><br/>“Of course.” Lalo agrees. That was a hell of a kiss goodnight if he meant to leave when it ended. He gets himself out of the car, tailing Nacho as he approaches his front door to unlock it. He kisses Nacho’s shoulder as he uses his house key, and when that’s allowed, he grabs his waist, making the both of them stumble a bit on their way inside.<br/><br/>Lalo lets Nacho bolt the door, as if that will make any difference to anyone with a good reason to get inside, and then shoves him up against it when he turns to him. A knee between Nacho’s legs makes him shudder, and it’s right back to kissing, passionate and wet and breathless. Lalo isn’t reprimanded when he starts fiddling with Nacho’s shirt buttons this time, but he wishes Nacho would participate a little more. His mouth’s hungry, but his hands are nearly frozen, palms against the door. Lalo gets the speckled button-down open, rubbing the hem as he breaks their kiss to search Nacho’s eyes.<br/><br/>“Why don’t you put your arms around me, sweetheart?” Lalo suggests, not unkind. “Or-- do you like to wrestle? Show me.”<br/><br/>“I’m not trying to wrestle.” Nacho licks his lips. They’re plump from kissing, shining in the dark foyer.<br/><br/>“A lover, not a fighter!” Lalo laughs, “You had me fooled, baby.”<br/><br/>Nacho moves his hand between them to brush the thin gold chain at Lalo’s chest with his thumb. He bunches up the fabric of his shirt into his fist again, then, like he did to pull them into their first kiss in the car. Nacho pivots, and Lalo resists not at all, happily letting himself be walked around so it’s <em> his </em> back to the door. “Ah, like this?” Lalo cozies up against the wood, draping his arms around Nacho’s shoulders.<br/><br/>Like that, then. Nacho moves in to kiss him again, using the grip on his shirt to pull them together, his other hand coming up to rake through Lalo’s hair, finally giving him a good petting. Things start making sense in the foyer.<br/><br/>Lalo learns, between the driveway and the bedroom, that Nacho likes to lead. Contrary to his persona in the outside world, here, he tenses up when he’s tasked with following. It’s not that Lalo can’t still pin Nacho if he wants to-- it’s just that the dance is more <em> fun </em> when Lalo lets him have his way. Nacho’s way is gentle power; Lalo wants to have fun.<br/><br/>Nacho lays him down in his king-size bed-- ay, Lalo hasn’t been <em> laid down </em> in a long time-- and covers him, that connection between their lips like the battery of the whole operation. Nacho needs to be charged up with kisses to proceed with any other activity. Is he just incredibly affectionate? Doesn’t feel like chatting? Can’t get enough of the mustache, Lalo concludes smugly.<br/><br/>“Pretty boy.” Lalo mutters as Nacho sits up. He takes the opportunity to turn the bedside lamp on, delighted by the illuminated view of Nacho shaking his shirt off his shoulders. Right, stripping was bound to happen, just on Nacho’s terms. “So cute.” He purrs, folding his arms back behind his head as he enjoys the show.<br/><br/>Nacho glances away as he pulls his undershirt over his head, maybe contending with the way the praise makes him flush. He’s all round muscles and beautiful skin, but Lalo bets a guy like this can only see his scars.<br/><br/>“Lovely! Hm?” Lalo extends his arms, meeting his eyes as he runs his palms along Nacho’s sides. Nacho can only withstand the attention so long before he’s got to get back to kissing; he buckles to press their mouths together. Lalo rakes his fingers down Nacho’s back, welcoming his tongue with a sigh.<br/><br/>Nacho starts fussing with Lalo’s shirt, managing to fumble even as he isn’t in any hurry. All his focus is in the kiss. <em> Nachito! </em> Fondness inside Lalo makes itself known, reminding him how he can’t stop its blooming.<br/><br/>When the maroon button-down’s open, Lalo hikes his white undershirt up to his armpits and finds Nacho’s hand-- pinned above them, gripping a pillow-- and guides it down his exposed front. He helps his knuckles brush over the hair on his chest, encourages him to squeeze a handful of his pec.<br/><br/>Nacho swallows a gulp of air, momentarily pausing their kisses to look where his hand’s being led. He moves his thumb back and forth against a nipple, those strong shoulders rising and falling with his breath.<br/><br/>Nacho mutters, incomprehensible (conceivably invoking the Virgin Mary). He dips to kiss between Lalo’s pecs. Lalo strokes his hand back and forth over Nacho’s buzzed head, tilting his chin back to luxuriate. Nacho takes his time, as seems to be his style with these things, humming a low rumble against Lalo’s skin as he rubs his mouth back and forth. His eyes are glossy, half-lidded as he flicks his gaze up.<br/><br/>Lalo grins, jaw moving like he might say something, but he holds his tongue as he watches Nacho sit up and get to work on his belt. It jangles as he unfastens it. “Do you want to suck me off?” Nacho asks, and Lalo pauses. <br/><br/>His pauses are never hesitant. He takes a beat of eye-contact, expression steady and open, then pulls his chin back and smiles. “Yes.” Lalo agrees plainly, then teases, “I wonder-- will you be so eager to kiss me after I’ve had your cock in my mouth?” He backs into the pillows, letting Nacho move in closer, to straddle him so all he has to do is lean in to assume the position.<br/><br/>“We’ll see.” Nacho answers, brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth quirked up. His eyes are playful when they meet Lalo’s for half a moment, and then he’s shimmying his tight black jeans as far down his thighs as they’ll go in this position. It’s enough; his underwear’s off in the same move, and Lalo doesn’t interrupt to stare gleefully, he just spits in his big palm and slides his fist down Nacho’s hard cock, hot mouth following in succession.<br/><br/>Nacho groans, and Lalo can’t see him, but he hears his back click as he arches into him. Even getting blown, his pace is languid and his touch is affectionate. His hands move through Lalo’s hair, one holding and stroking along the back of his head, the other combing through the white streak at his hairline over and over. He puffs out short breaths and slowly rocks his hips, shallowly fucking Lalo’s fist and mouth.<br/><br/>This is heaven for Lalo; he chases this smell, this taste, this overstuffed feeling in his cheeks. He opens his hand to swallow as much dick as he can take, eyes shut as it hits his soft palate, and then further, taking it into the walls of his throat. He bobs, steadying himself with both hands on Nacho’s ass. He squeezes. His nose knocks against short pubes. Nacho’s shuddering.<br/><br/>Lalo needs to back off a bit for both of their sakes; to resume pumping at the base with his hand, and so he can stop showing off and focus on sucking. Nacho’s curled over him when he flicks his pink-rimmed eyes up at him, eyes screwed shut, brow twinging as he pants.<br/><br/>Lalo pops his mouth off, just hoping to get Nacho to look at him, and it works. Nacho opens his eyes. Lalo laps the wet head of his cock with superficial darts of his tongue, passing kisses over his length, lavishing him with attention without putting him back into his mouth.<br/><br/>His prick is twitching in the open air, and Nacho finally squeezes Lalo’s hair more tightly. He doesn’t use his words, just pumps his hips into not enough warmth.<br/><br/>“You really need your cock sucked, huh?” Lalo can’t resist dogging him a little, his voice low and husky from swallowing Nacho as far down as he goes. He opens his mouth around him, all hot air, and doesn’t shut it. He backs off again.<br/><br/>“I <em> get </em> my cock sucked.” Nacho grits out.<br/><br/>Lalo’s elated by that, smugly countering, “Not like this.”, and going right back to business. He keeps a steady pace jerking Nacho in his fist while he sucks him off, swirling his tongue, giving special treatment to the head. His eyes sink shut and he enjoys himself; his warm welcome in the North, in his new friend’s bedroom, having such a nice evening.<br/><br/>Nacho croaks above him, shifting grip in his hair making his lashes flutter open. “I’m close.” Nacho mutters. It’s very considerate of him to issue warning, but Lalo keeps his gaze up, locking eyes to let Nacho know that he’s more than welcome to it.<br/><br/>“I’m-- ah--” Nacho starts again, but squeezes his eyes shut and drops his jaw and cums, completely silent, hands clenching and unclenching against Lalo’s scalp like a little massage. Lalo holds him in his mouth a few moments longer, then pulls off slowly. He lets his right hand slip away, the left still holding onto a butt cheek. He gives him a pat.<br/><br/>Nacho stays panting, face relaxing, brows raising and softening, but with eyes still shut. Lalo pats him again.<br/><br/>Nacho blinks his eyes open. Lalo bats his lashes back at him, cheeks full, waiting.<br/><br/>“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”<br/><br/>Nacho dismounts Lalo’s chest, not entirely graceful with his pants down around his thighs. A free man, Lalo gets up off the bed to find the attached bathroom and spit in the sink. In the sleek counter insert, he runs the tap and sticks his mouth under it. The drink is refreshing and cold and gets all over his chin. He wipes his mouth with his forearm as he straightens his shoulders, taking a look at himself in the mirror. He washes his hands just because, clicking out an approximation of a jaunty little melody with his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he dries them. Lalo’s still dressed, with his button-down open and his undershirt sloppily rucked up around his belly.<br/><br/>Rubbing his mustache with his thumb, Lalo turns to regard Nacho in the bedroom. He’s moved; gotten up, stripped down to nothing but the gold around his neck, and is waiting in the bathroom doorway for Lalo to look at him.<br/><br/>Lalo’s brows pinch as he smiles in overwhelm, holding his arms open at the sight. “<em>Baby.</em>” He greets, and Nacho pads closer to him, silent but looking pleased as he gets to work undoing Lalo’s belt and the top of his pants. It would be inappropriate to start singing the bit of the classic he’s got stuck in his head, so Lalo bites his lower lip and lets Nacho lead. What’s the plan, Nachito?<br/><br/>Kissing, of course. Nacho locks their lips again, softly licking into Lalo’s mouth, warranting a grunt as he simultaneously grabs between his legs. His pants are open but not quite out of the way, and Lalo rocks forward into Nacho’s hand to press against all the fabric keeping them apart. Nacho releases him, and Lalo nearly thinks he’ll be subjected to the same kind of teasing he was just dishing out for the blowjob, but Nacho’s hand slips right down into his underwear. He grips him, feeling how hard he is, and then makes quick work of the briefs still in the way. The band snaps around Lalo’s thighs, just under his ass, making him huff out a laugh that trails into a moan as Nacho properly strokes him. <br/><br/>Upright like this, Lalo’s pants crumple around his knees, his belt clanking against itself. He grips the edge of the countertop as Nacho positions himself directly behind him to steadily jerk him off. He’s firm but never reckless, focused, locking eyes with Lalo in the mirror. “Do you like that?” He asks in that pleasant voice of his, and Lalo coughs.<br/><br/>The fist around his cock is dry but determined, and while the countertop obscures his view of the action, the mirror does let him appreciate just a sliver of nakedness behind him. “Yes.” He answers, and Nacho kisses his shoulder blade, dropping an affectionate nuzzle against his back. “You like it too.” Lalo notes, smiling as he pants.<br/><br/>“I like you.” Nacho murmurs, quiet, holding Lalo’s gaze in the mirror. He’s got an openness about him which should warrant suspicion, especially with Lalo’s dick in his hand. All intuitive signs point to manipulation.<br/><br/>Lalo barks out a laugh, the sound bursting out of him, deep and gleeful. “Then make me cum, Ignacio. Go on.” It’s not a steep challenge, only a demand of the obvious, and Lalo drops his head as he lets himself feel into it. He leans heavier against the countertop, eyes shut as Nacho picks up the pace. He keeps thumbing over the slit, spreading the dabs of slick precum back and forth against his length. Lalo groans through his open mouth, forehead wrinkling as the feeling builds. “Oh. <em> Oh, oh, oh, </em> there you go. That’s it.” He mutters, and means it.<br/><br/>“There you go, baby, that’s-- ah--...” Lalo straightens up as he feels for the edge, tilting his head back and putting some weight against the man behind him. “Just like that. Oh. Yeahhh, it’s-- ah-- ah, <em> ah! Ah! </em> ”<br/><br/>The groan through Lalo’s orgasm is shaky, and his back arches, his chest heaving as he rides the high of it. “Ffffuck! Oh!” He knocks the sleek countertop with the side of his fist, hitting in succession, tapering off into lazy taps as he comes down. “Fuck.” He breathes, opening his bleary eyes to see the mess he made of the cabinet faces. He feels Nacho kiss his shoulder once more and step away.<br/><br/>The shower door opens and the water runs. Lalo doesn’t watch Nacho climb in, tending to getting his pants back up around his hips, and then dabbing at the doors below the sink with toilet paper. “You’ve got to have a spare toothbrush around here, ah?” He prompts, and Nacho looks over his wet shoulder, gesturing to a low drawer.<br/><br/>Lalo finds, in the back corner of the drawer, a cache of individually packaged toothbrushes and disorganized travel-sized toiletries. He blinks back up at Nacho with an eyebrow raised. Nacho’s turned away. He takes a moment to appreciate the way he shines under the shower water. He’s got a muscular back and a perfect little ass, the curve of his legs making Lalo audibly sigh. He pops a toothbrush out of its packaging and administers toothpaste from a tiny bottle, then hoists himself up onto the bathroom counter to sit and enjoy the view as he brushes his teeth.<br/><br/>There’s silence between them; the sound of the shower running underscores the back-and-forth swish of the toothbrush. Lalo watches Nacho wash his body, the guy not taking any extra looks at his audience. He takes an extra moment under the water once he’s clean, standing still, letting the stream rush down his face. Lalo gets down off the counter, toothbrush stuck between his lips, his usual brush time stalled. Nacho shuts the water off and turns. Through the steam, water drips off his lashes and slips down his chin. If his goal is to instill in Lalo his exceptional beauty, he’s outdoing himself.<br/><br/>As Nacho opens the glass shower door, Lalo provides him with the towel he found hanging closeby. It’s deep red, and Nacho chooses to continue not acknowledging his guest by burying his face in it. Lalo meanders back to the sink to spit and run his mouth under the faucet again, taking a liking to the action.<br/><br/>“Are you sleeping here?” Nacho asks as he dries off his underarms, meeting Lalo’s eyes in the mirror.<br/><br/>“Sure.” Lalo agrees without even a teasing moment of consideration. He lays the toothbrush down on the edge of the sink, easy to access as he’ll use it again in the morning. He turns and steps closer to Nacho, then, the beginnings of a smile animating his mouth. “Don’t think I don’t know your plan, Ignacio.” Nacho blinks fast but doesn’t rattle. Lalo encroaches on his personal space, head tilted and eyes keen, leveraging his size and the younger man’s nakedness. “You know I’ll have to make breakfast for us, but there’s no food in the house. You’re thinking you’ll get some extra steak in your freezer out of this.”<br/><br/>Nacho stares, then secures his towel around his waist so he can hold both hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Lalo. It’s all true.”<br/><br/>“Oh,” Lalo cries, “I love how you say my name.” He sighs, unable to help embracing the man before him and pressing kisses to the line of his jaw. Nacho relaxes this time, putting his arms around Lalo in turn. He tilts his chin back and is perfectly pliable. He <em> can </em> be held after all, he only needs to be warmed up. “I forgive you. I forgive you, Nachito, don’t lose sleep over it.”<br/><br/>Easy words don’t help either of them sleep.<br/><br/>They’re both night owls, apparently, laid up in the dark with their eyes open. Lalo took his clothes off while Nacho brushed his teeth, and they settled easily into a loose hold when Nacho came to bed. Nacho lays on his back while Lalo curls towards him, one of his shins laid over both Nacho’s legs. Blankets haphazardly cover their feet, the both of them otherwise naked and cool in the silence. Nacho’s nestled deeply into the pillows, and Lalo stares past the outline of his profile into the gaping maw of his walk-in closet.<br/><br/>Blackness, the depth of it indicated by slivers of moonlight touching the edges of shelves. Nacho’s got so many clothes.<br/><br/>Guys up north tend to have smaller closets, with more to say about whatever hideous crap they populate them with-- they might reflexively hold something up and ask, <em> haha, hey, is this, you know--? </em> Back home, a man can have as many beautiful shirts as he likes, as long as he doesn’t say a thing about them. Nothing that might upset your abuelita. Lots can be permitted, so long as you don’t break that contract.<br/><br/>Don’t speak.<br/><br/>Nacho surprises him by asking, into the room, “what are you thinking about?”<br/><br/>“Must’ve been loud.” Lalo chuckles on a soft exhale, snuggling up to his bedmate and kissing his ear. He nibbles ever-so-gently at his earring. “How stylish you are, baby.” He answers, honest, but also withholding.<br/><br/>“I could show you some of the wardrobe in the morning. If you wanted.”<br/><br/>“Oh, I’d dress you up like a girl’s plaything if you let me.”<br/><br/>Nacho smirks at that but doesn’t follow up. <br/><br/>Are you disappointed, Nachito?<br/><br/>Lalo runs his fingertips back and forth across Nacho’s smooth chest. If his aim was to appease, he might bring up the scheme he’s got developing on the backburner for tomorrow. Saying too much else runs the risk of putting the both of them back into context, though, and the last thing Lalo wants to talk about in bed is business. Nacho might forget his place, anyway. He assumes that’s what this is all about.<br/><br/>No shame in a little manipulation. Nacho’s smart, and Lalo loves that about him.<br/><br/>Lalo concedes after reading the silence a while, “Don’t think I don’t see you.” Warm and encouraging, “I do.”<br/><br/>Nacho turns his face towards him. Lalo brings his fingertips up to brush against his short beard as he moves in for a kiss. Lalo’s not hopeless, but he is romantic.<br/><br/>In his dream, Hector’s brushing a horse. It’s one of those images which seems so perfectly right in a dream that you lose track of its connection to a memory. He hurries up to his uncle and embraces him, only realizing by how small he feels in his arms that he’s a grown man and not a child. Hector keeps clapping his hand over Lalo’s arm as they part, twitchy gaze fixed out past his shoulder. Lalo follows the look, turning slowly to see the barn engulfed in flames. They’re far enough away that the heat doesn’t reach them, safe on a purple hill, but Lalo can clearly hear the screaming and whinnying inside. The stable master’s hollering just outside, pleading for help, uselessly throwing buckets of water at the raging blaze.<br/><br/>A corner of the barn crackles, slopes, and then bursts apart. A flaming horse shoots from the wreckage and dances along the hill, far away from the barn, away, away, chittering, sparking, dying. Lalo watches it slow down until it’s nothing but lava, until pools of heat roll out of its bones in every direction.<br/><br/>Lalo remembers the barn, and frowns, “Ignacio’s in there.” <br/><br/>It’s all a blackened crisp now-- just the beams which once held it together and smoking hay. The stable master’s sitting outside it on his knees, no wailing left in him.<br/><br/>Hector keeps patting his nephew. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>